


There Are Signs, Mr. Kim

by axcel_lili



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Chicken Pox, Dorks, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, The Script, highschool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-06-29 04:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15722121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axcel_lili/pseuds/axcel_lili
Summary: In which kim Jongin is a goofy kind of stupid second year who caught a terrible chicken pox and do Kyungsoo is a senior who could kill, even a pig, with stares alone.Infatuation? Eew.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> a supposed entry for 2018 noonediesthistime, but its already august and there's no news yet. so here this go. pyong.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I saw you thrice.

 

When Jongin brushed his teeth last night using cheap toothpaste his uncle overseas gave him, he actually considered the thought of forgetting the fact Tao tricked him wrong answers at the Science pop quiz last Tuesday and be nice to him.

 

Yes, Zitao is mischievous at times but he could also count on his fingers the times Tao stopped being such a rude jerk and actually helped overcome depression by giving out half-consumed Hershey’s Cookies ‘n Cream chocolate.

 

But today, he forgets about that thought.

 

Who is he kidding? Tao, that eye-bagged panda, is a snake. He grumbles disapprovingly as he watches how his hand snakes through his best friend’s left shoulder. See? Snake.

 

“Come on now Jongin!” Sehun yells with his right hand cupped around his mouth, thinking it will help him to sound louder, and his other arm waving eagerly at him, feet stomping on the ground in impatience.

 

The guy adores anything sweet, it is one of the few things he quickly learned from sharing an empty hallway with him in an early morning, where two pairs of curled fists are in the air and books are piled on top of their heads.

 

That is why he is quick to agree when Tao turns up at the soba shop, offering them promo coupons he got from someone he beat in wushu. Jongin is totally okay with that, anything given for free are okay. He’s about to stand up and leave his soba noodles happily swimming with chopsticks and carrots when Tao says the place. He fixes the loose button on his shirt, It’s Bubble Tea House, he forgot to tell it earlier.

 

Tao should have focused less on the button to see how unpretty Jongin’s gaping.

 

The purple place reminds Jongin of a painful memory, worth a thousand cringes, of one of the rare times Jongin realizes that not anything given for free are okay. Especially forced free kiss from a girl taller than you, but still wears pigtails as if they are grade-schoolers, and a body larger than the drums they have at home. Poor Jongin involuntarily shivers and harshly wipes his lips like it’s about to rot.

 

He even spits for good measure. A costumer from another table is totally not okay with what he sees and sends him a glare.

 

“It’s free, come on! And it’s Bubble Tea House!”

 

Something in him snaps.  “I swear, Tao, if you don’t disappear in my sight at the count of three I’ll stab your two big eyes with these chopsticks!”

 

Sehun finds it funny, laughing harder than he should, when the wushu artist’s face contorts in confusion ‘ _What did I say wrong?!’_ before he is forcibly pushed until they are totally out of Jongin’s rage range. Sehun’s laughter is still in his ears.

 

Firing out complicated new threats, the man beside him –who looks like someone who will not curse even in a million years—disapproves. And Jongin, a man with a staggering height of two normal people combined, cowers, coiling in his seat as he picks up the chopstick, nervously chewing its ends.

 

:::

 

It’s morning and it’s raining.A male student clads in shoulder soaked uniform it turns a shade of dirty gray is braving the morning moderate rain. Jongin looks away from the window, almost tears the Citadel—their school quarterly newspaper— in half in a bored attempt to make a paper plane when a picture in Sports column makes him stop.

 

It’s black and white and is small, the size of two matchboxes together. There are two people on the focus, the rest are a bit blurred. It is taken from the school gymnasium during the final of their school’s chess competition and the caption below the picture says:

 

“The reigning chess master with good looks winning for three consecutive years: Lee Jungsuk.”

 

Jongin makes a snorting sound before proceeding to read the rest of the article. He quickly takes a look at the picture first and smiles.

 

“… _He sat cross-legged, his chin cupped in his hands and his eyes studied keenly the arrangement of pieces on the chess board before him. He learned the game’s basic moves from his uncle by the age of 6. Three weeks later he was already beating him. He takes after his brother that was three years older._

 

_A flash of discovery passed across his face. Jungsuk advanced his queen. A real chess master!—“_

 

That’s when Jongin slams the newspaper at his armchair. It causes a few heads to turn his way.

 

All the article is for the chess winner that the rest of the competitors aren’t even mentioned! Is the article writer a fan? This is not so so fair.

 

“Ooy.”

 

Someone snaps a finger before his face.

 

“Have you gone deaf?” it’s Sehun. Oh great.

 

Jongin raises his head to the chic blonde freshman classmate that’s towering him.

 

“What? How long have you been calling me earlier?” asks with fake annoyance.

 

“Two years! How long did you think?”

 

“Oh, shut up. Go away.”

 

Oh Sehun laughs his signature laugh and nudges him on the shoulder. “Come with me for a while, at the first floor. Come on, it’s still early anyway.”

 

“Noooo,” Jongin lazily replies, bringing out his scissors. His brows furrow as he angled the scissors, he wants to cut the picture but doesn’t know how.

 

“I might run into that idiot bully again, you know that, I need your company Jongin.”

 

The other boy just scrunches up his nose like he doesn’t care. “Luhan isn’t scary. And you are taller than him, noodle.”

 

“Where’s Jongin?” somebody near the door asks.

 

“He’s not here!”

 

“Liar, I saw you, dumbass. Mr. Ling wanted you at the staff room at break.”

 

“Aughhh,” students Kim and Oh groan, like the best friends they are.

 

“Yeah, just groan, you know how you’re Mr. Ling’s favorite.” The boy managed to say while snickering.

 

The tanned student angrily throws a pencil pouch at the door, too bad, he got poor aim, and the pouch is just a pouch anyway so it drifts not far away from his feet. _Pathetic._ It’s his cue to grab his own hair. Next time he won’t use steel brush to practice on guitar, he’ll probably settle on ruler or something. And next time, he’ll remember to ask whose item is it.

 

Some of the classmates laugh at his mortification. He tells them to shut the hell up but they ignore his futile screaming.

 

This is not all good for his cool, handsome image.

 

“Kkamjong~…Oh, who’s that?”

 

Jongin’s eyes snap open. His hand is quick to pull the newspaper away from his best friend’s hands, hands that are somewhat dirty from dried glue and whatever other dirty things he decided to touch, when Sehun was about to grab it, Jongin mentally hugging himself for not tearing the paper in frustration earlier. _OH goodness_. He was afraid his idiot classmate would make a ball out of it and just toss it somewhere, pretending basketball. Or maybe Sehun would laugh at him, getting the wrong idea.

 

“Since when did you like reading those?” there was an impending laughter in his throat. “I know your eyes were only for comics and horoscopes.”

 

Sehun’s pupils disappear when he smiles and the sound of his laughter, Jongin likes to think and teases him about it when he have time, seems comes from a four-footed animal.

 

Jongin looks away from an awful sight and gazes at the certain person in the picture, the one beside Lee Jungsuk’s opponent. The blurred one. But even though it is a little fuzzy, it is amazing that he can still make out the boy’s profile. His plump lips and his engaging eyes.

 

Sehun’s laughter is slowly fading away from his ears.

 

Comics and horoscopes?

 

Jongin almost laughs.

 

He shakes his head.

 

 

 

Really, how do you say a casual hi to someone you really admire? Is there a manual?

 

He has never entertained such a thought. Someone told him (or more like someone told somebody while Jongin was on time to be eavesdropping) that crushes, after some time, fades. Dictionary says it’s a noun that means temporary love of adolescent, while idiot best friend Sehun says it’s like a bubblegum—pink and annoying. The statement might or might not have something to do with the manic soccer guy, Luhan, because eeer, his hair is pink? But Jongin is not sure. Sehun laughs, denies it and locks himself in the bathroom.

 

If it fades in time and something that will go away when presented with something that’s enough to turn you off, why bother letting the seeds have its leaves? Jongin settles at the joy of finding the object of his affection in the hallway, keeping the heart in his eyes every time the wonder boy leaves the door. This way is safer, far from the hurt of rejection. He is not very good with confrontation, often shying away, never really taking action unless cornered. Better challenge him in a dance battle or talk about dogs to see his smug look.

 

It’s ten in the morning and the world finds Jongin cursing at theweight of two stacks of a4s and 16 thick formidable notebooks, idly standing under the sign of bright red letters saying English Department.He can knock no more and he really just wants to sit down.

 

Then the door swings open.

 

The air catches in his throat, little hairs on his back all in standing ovation.

 

_Surprise._

 

He really should have thought about the manual.

 

 

There is a little, just a bit embarrassing incident for Jongin, at the bathroom in the east wing before this story really starts.

 

It’s his third day as a high school freshman.

 

He barely knows half of his classmates. He still hasn’t memorized his new school’s Alma Mater Song and he still isn’t so familiar with the school to know where the bathrooms are.

 

Kim Jongin, an aspiring professional hiphop and jazz dancer and has a little passion for anything mechanical, isn’t dumb. He reasons out that the Exordium High campus is just so big, it was ridiculous, and wide, which is actually true.

 

It happens during P.E.

 

They are told to run three times around, from the school’s gymnasium to the Math department then to the soaring flagpole and back. Jongin doesn’t understand that it is Math building and not Chemistry room. He looks at his back and sees no one of his classmates is running with him. He snorts, like a king, and immediately decides with dismay that they are all stupid.

 

And since no one of his teachers or classmates is with him, he takes a detour. Arms swinging on his sides as he leisurely goes to the comfort room. He notes that this CR is a little cozy than the ones they have near their room. Jongin screams spectacularly high-pitched the next minute; a thing he would be embarrassed later, almost breaking down the door when he sees a daring cockroach flying his way.

 

It is crazy. And he didn’t know what to do aside from flailing his arms, weak on the knees.

 

But then, out of nowhere, there is a loud thud.

 

The noise of cockroach’s flapping wings stops. Jongin cringes as he hugs his shoulders in defense and peers through his slightly opened left eye. What he sees is a floppy shoe impacted with the bathroom blue wall. A lifeless cockroach dropped to the ground. Dead.

 

He tentatively watches the owner of the shoe, slowly, from his extended hand then to his face. The boy has the face of a middle schooler and so is his height. Jongin is sure he is taller than the boy. There is no emotion in his eyes, just blank. It is like he is fed and is stupidly asked what did it taste like but he has no care so he just stares.

 

Middle-schooler boy retracts his hand and observes his shoe, clicks his tongue once as he squeezes his foot back into it. He seems to have spent all his energy in hitting his shoe. His eyes are dead and shoulders are limply following his movements. He doesn’t even bother to throw a glance at Jongin, who is ungracefully sprawled on the dirty floor, before turning to the exit with a half-filled small bucket in hand.

 

Jongin remains in his position for at least half a minute before he processes everything in his wrinkled-free brain.

 

“I screamed like a girl,” he face palms “over the ugly cockroach.”

 

First impression: Middle-schooler is a blank elf who willingly fights against pest. 

 

 

 

His second time to see the blank elf is in the cafeteria.

 

It is noisy everywhere and the air is humid, half to blame the group of newly arrived soccer newbies who had too much fun playing under the sun. They arrive with raucous laughter and quite nasty body smell.

 

A person in their table, namely Tao, is also creating disturbance as they eat. He is constantly bragging about the earphone his uncle in Dubai got for him last Christmas. It is way past the Christmas, and it is already July, goodness! This person just couldn’t move on.

 

Sehun, on the other hand, just kept on slurping his macaroni soup.

 

The noise along the canteen’s serving area intensifies but dies down abruptly in three seconds. It is silent that he almost thinks they are in church.

 

Jongin, who is always curious, stands up to have a better view. His fork with a hotdog stabbed into it is still in his hand.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Just the idiot newbies.” Somebody says.

 

Jongin cranes his neck. There is hurriedly dispersing freshman soccer player and a large spill of chicken soup on the floor and to somebody’s pants. He puts the pictures together and viola.

 

Idiot newbie probably spilled the soup while they are arguing stupidly about something with his teammates and he is so unlucky because the boy who has soup in his lower pants is none other than Middle-schooler.

 

It’s him again.

 

Jongin finds in odd.

 

But why is he so unlucky?

 

Middle-schooler amazingly is equipped with a serial killer vibe that could send stronger men cower behind stones. He seems like a new face he hasn’t seen before. There is storm in those calm eyes and the way he stands seems to command everyone’s attention, though he is relatively smaller and the others are towering him. Jongin is so impressed; his eyes shoot wider, when three words from Middle-schooler makes all the freshmen scrambling, standing straight on their feet.

 

“Fall. In. Line.”

 

He doesn’t scream the words or throw the tray he has in his hands. He doesn’t have to do that. It is like watching how underlings gave salutes to their scary battalion commander.

 

Jongin doesn’t notice it but Sehun stops noisily slurping his soup.

 

Second impression: Blank elf is actually a pacifier whose eyes alone could kill wild boars.

 

 

 

Someone asks him and he replies presumptuously with a cocked brow. He wants to finish high school with very nice grades, the kind that makes your mama proud, and have at least three medals. But Jongin is so lazy about studying, let alone crack his books open.

 

Sehun finds it funny.

 

The next day, his always lifesaver, his cheat mate—Oh Sehun— is absent.

 

Jongin counts it his bad luck.

 

He eyes the formidable notebooks resting on his lap. He is about to do four homeworks and activities because the teacher said and he quotes ‘ _Since I am being generous so be thankful I didn’t make it five’_. There are no kind classmates like Sehun who would offer answers about these to him tomorrow. Zitao would never let him copy without receiving something (expensive) in return. Foxy.

 

He unzips his pen case and sees his favorite Bic pen had a diarrhea.

 

He stands up petulantly to throw it away and it is when his English-speaking classmate Jackson passes by and puckers his lips (too lazy to use his hands when he’s not even holding something) to point at the direction of his “lower part” that he lost it.

 

His zipper is open for almost half of the day.

 

 

Kim Jongin finds himself slipping on one of the chairs in the library after the school bell rang.He is like a chicken swimming in the sea, a very poor one. But handsome, he adds. Speaking of chicken, he is getting hungry.

 

He doesn’t remember the last time he went in a room surrounded by books and signs that say “Observe Silence.” It is new to him. And it scares him a little even though he hasn’t done anything wrong.

 

He takes his bag and goes to the less crowded area of the library, where there are less murmuring and rustling of pages. He takes out a torn page from his note and circles Renaissance a few times with the black inked pen he newly bought.

 

He caps the pen and safely put it in his chest pocket.

 

After a while of walking and skimming through the spines of the books, which only gets him having collective dust on his finger, he gives a mute groan of dissatisfaction, keeping quiet about it because who knows when the grumpy cat-loving librarian might show up. It’s always like that in stories so he assumes librarians are generally old women with gray hairs who like to scowl at everybody and oh, like cats so so much. He doesn’t know why they have to build such an expansive, huge library like this. Dumb students would probably lose their way finding the exit.

 

“Where the heck am I supposed to find Renaissance here?”

 

He checks the time in his watch and it says thirty minutes after three. He looks left and right, trying to bump into someone he knows, probably his same grade, but there are none. Jongin knows better to ask than to blindly search, the latter would take him forever.

 

So he goes to the reception desk and asks.

 

“Far, far left, third shelf.”

 

Luckily, Jongin still has patience to go deep down the far, far left.

 

But it made him exhausted.

 

He plops down on a chair and tosses his red backpack on the mahogany table. He flinches when he realizes a boy is with him. The boy’s head is settled between his folded arms and from the looks of it, he is probably sleeping.

 

Jongin scoffs.

 

Since when did the library become a ward?

 

Jongin tilts his head to read the titles of the books piled like a wall, helping to obstruct the view of the boy’s face. The books are not even thin. It ranges from World Almanac to Why the Keys Have Bumps.

 

Jongin scoffs again. He finds a certified bookworm, and it is hiding behind a makeshift wall. And what are all these? A proof of intelligence?

 

If he decides to be naughty and be a bully today, he would roll a paper and blow hard in his ear. That would be fantastic. He could imagine the boy’s face would be priceless. Epic.

 

Jongin leans forward, his arms straighten in front of him to prop him up.

 

But the sly smile he wears drops in an instant.

 

Jongin doesn’t realize yet that he’s watching the boy, his face hovering above the wall of books, unconsciously taking in how the corner of his closed eyes quiver a little and how there is certain light on his hair, he doesn’t know how to say it he forgets what it’s called but it’s pretty anyway.

 

He forgets his initial plan to blow the boy’s ear and the things related to scoffing. His hand fishes out his phone in his pocket and takes a picture. He’s absent-minded that he nearly jumps at the shutter sound.

 

There is shock when his brain registers what is on the screen. “What the hell?”

 

He peeks at the glowing screen again before hesitantly tucking it inside his pants, “Nah, might delete it later.”

 

He flails his arm at his back blindly searching for a chair he knows it’s just there, pulling the chair ever so quietly, his face participating because he is barring his teeth, in case there would be squeaks. He makes a quick peek at the boy, checking if he stirred or not.

 

Jongin settles to watch his table-buddy, fists cuddling his cheeks as he sits there. All he could see are the books and the torso of the boy. “Hey, you drool.” He says then snickers quietly because it’s a joke, no one is here so he reacts to himself. And he hopes Sehun wouldn’t hear about that.

 

He hisses from time to time because the baseball captain’s scolding to his team who didn’t get a proper haircut and the echoing sound of the ball that hits the metal fence (although distant) are loud. It could wake up the boy! Don’t they know someone might be taking an energy nap at this hour? Don’t they?

 

The boy’s breathing is soft and slow. He amusedly tries to match it with his, smiling lopsidedly when he does. There is a slight breeze of the afternoon and the yellow curtain adorning the opened window blows from time to time. Then finally, after a long while, sense probably knocks on him, telling him he is starting to get creepy because it’s universally creepy to watch someone sleep. Couples are excluded.

 

“C…ook me some beef...” comes a slurred sound.

 

Jongin’s surprised eyes quickly darts to the boy who is still in the same position.

 

“Uh, b-beef?” he hears himself squawked, involuntarily sitting straighter. “Should I?”

 

The boy doesn’t answer back.

 

Jongin, for a considerable amount of two minutes, is fidgeting in his seat. “Are you talking to me? Do you know me?” he asks in hushed whispers, index finger jabbing his own chest, excitement bubbling up. “And just so you know, I can’t cook. Did I awake you, really? Are you hungry now?”

 

The boy is silent still, as if to mock him.

 

He has heard of sleep-talking before. And the boy is currently just doing that. Great. Did he just fire away barrels of questions? Jongin rolls his eyes.

 

But the boy suddenly smiles (no, not at him but somewhere in his mind he thinks it’s for him).

 

_A heart?_

 

He turns his head and looks around, scooting nearer to the table’s edge, a little closer from the boy who smiles close to a baby, and puts his curled fists to his cheeks which, unbeknownst to him, are turning to the shade of ripening apples.

 

Third impression: Middle-schooler could kill with his smiles, too.

 

 

It’s the cough that makes him break apart from the musing he is in. It’s been a natural occurrence, leave him in a few moments of silence and he’ll creepily fall into daydreaming—eyes open, unfocused at nothing.

 

“Isn’t that heavy, Hercules? Aren’t you going to put that down?”

 

His hair is the color of the ink splayed accidentally on his palm or after the lamppost, the shadows beneath him. He is the untouchable, the upperclassman with lesser friends and has shown animosity better than smiles. Third year student Do Kyungsoo.

 

The notebooks nearly fall from the quiver of his knees, legs almost forgot the function to stand up.

 

That. Voice.

 

The only thing that made him not spill anything to the floor is the name (or the mockery he obviously doesn’t realize) the senior called him. This could be absurd, but suddenly the stacks of paper seem weightless. He’s rocking on his heels and there’s a sloppy grin he can’t help shooting at the ground, eyes too shy to greet the senior. This moment is too golden, for the very first time in his life Do Kyungsoo is looking at him, talking to him and there’s only a full stride away distance between them that he doesn’t mind to take. The goofy act isn’t part of the plan; he’s actually trying to appear chick, endeavoring to present a picture of charisma.(He fails. Don’t tell him, he’ll get hurt.) _Hercules. The muscles pay off, baby._

 

“Yah, still not putting it down?”

 

There’s a visible annoyance laced on the voice but Jongin is too happy to care, focusing only on the positives. This is the closest he has been around his crush and honestly he wants to scoot more, wondering if anymore closer he would smell sandalwood or vanilla. Jongin wants to pout, Kyungsoo sunbae, who has his hand around the knob widens the door to accommodate the student, clicks a tongue at him when instead he’s going at his direction and not at where his finger is pointing. He is so adorable frowning, it’s a waste to not to be captured in film. Kim Jongin manoeuvres, the lines of muscle on his arm flexes at the effort.With a dull thud, atlas, the damn notes have been dumped to the side where they belong.

 

The other boy hums and Jongin stands out straight. When he is about to open his mouth to speak, sunbae suddenly ducks, swishing the air and oh my gosh, it isn’t sandalwood nor vanilla. Its citrus! He’s gonna tell Sehun!

 

“2-B,” the boy murmurs after inspecting the section indicated in one of the notebooks, then pulling out a pen from his breast pocket and writing it down in a separate paper. Jongin isn’t wondering why the guy has been doing inside the teacher’s English office. What’s Jongin’s concern is the loud thumping of his heart. This is louder than the after practices in the studio, this moment beats the nervous times he gets to stand at the board, chalk in hand, brain scrambling for an answer.

 

It has a resounding ache in it, he revels as he presses a hand above it, but it’s a beautiful ache. Something he likes to get used to.

 

The junior student must have seen his red shoes in peripheral. Soon the eyes look up at him and the mouth with a sweetest wave.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I said you could go now, and please tell your class president I also need your class list. This counts only 16, I bet there’s thirty in your class” Kyungsoo unamusedly says while he shoos Jongin to the door, and the poor starstrucked boy couldn’t get to object because _holy cow, did he just touch my elbow?! “_ I’ll be at 3-A after one” and the door slams shut at his face.

 

The sound of it echoes. The sign on the wall almost shakes at the impact and his ears ring. Jongin finds his hand still over his chest and the beatings hasn’t died down. It registers on him slowly, his hand not occupied by anything freezes midair. If there’s an opportunity for Jongin to make this senior realize his existence, _to know him_ , there is no better opportunity than this time.

 

“SUNBAE, I AM--!”

 

“AARH!”

 

Behold whose face got hit by the hard edge of the door. “S-SORRY!”  Jongin hurries close, feeling panicky for opening the door without a warning. “SORRY!” Jongin is at the loss with what to do with his arms, flailing it uselessly and Kyungsoo is crouching in pain and Jongin could almost feel it. That’s the thing about crushes right, you’re in pain, I am too. And oh, shoot, this is his crush right? Totally a bad first impression!

 

Kyungsoo hisses at him and Jongin is beginning to hate himself a little more. “What is it this time?!”

 

Jongin fidgets, a twinge in his throat as he gulps. The furious guy glares more, he really has to speak now. “Well, I—“ Then, his voice cracks, _fantastic_ , totally not my day.

 

“I, I am uuh, Hercules is fine but,” his eyes fly at the ceiling at this point“ my name is J-jongin, Kim Jongin, well…you may not…”

 

“—What the frog?”

 

“I JUST WANT TO TELL YOU MY NAME.”

 

“Calm down, don’t shout! Uugh, headaches,” Kyungsoo scrunches his squishy face, two hands at his temple. Now is not the time to appreciate beauty but the senior looks absolutely adorable even when angry, the plush lips are red from being bitten, even the window opposite the door is conspiring to help Kyungsoo with angelic glow, the sunlight treading through his soft hair and some red at the line of his brows.

 

“Wait, is that blood?” his mouth drops at his own question.

 

There’s suddenly fear in Kyungsoo’s wide, wide eyes. Blood. Then a body slams onto him and _crap where’s the gravity_ , the world just suddenly goes spinning. He squeaks and his nose is forcefully shoved flat buried in someone else’s chest. His instincts kicking in, naturally trying to defend, but how can he when a pair of steel arms prevents him from trashing around? And his feet high kicking only the air. _Please tell me it isn’t what I’m thinking! Please tell me it isn’t what I’m thinking!_

 

Kyungsoo sunbae doesn’t need to say more, after all Jongin has always been an aspiring knight in shining armor. He knows the way to infirmary by heart, being a regular pays off, baby. So his princess’ protests fall on deaf ears, long legs hurrying at their best down to the first floor all the while he securely carries him in bridal style. (Number three in bucket list, checked.)

 

He even tightens his hold a little more after some short whimpers from the princess, mistaking it as ‘hurry up, my prince.’

 

Jongin’s peewee heart almost stops. If he squints hard enough, he’ll realize the whimpers are muffled groans of threats and embarrassment because Do Kyungsoo has a reputation to hold, he shouldn’t be seen being paraded like a lousy romantic re-enactment of some sorts. He hopes those damn students mistake him from someone else or else this idiot will be totally dead. _I’m so gonna kill you!_

 

Do Kyungsoo has the lightweight of four adult chickens together. _I’m so gonna tell Sehun!_

 

:::

 

“So, I’ve heard.”

 

“Not now, Oh Sehun.”

 

“That was fantastic.”

 

“Chew the meat, shoo the flies.”

 

“I really thought you were about to die.”

 

“JUST EAT YOUR DAMN BURGER.”

 

Kim Jongin rips the patty in half and throws it on his mouth (all the while a rare animal laughs at the background), grumpily grinding the food between his teeth. It isn’t the situation of him sporting multiple bruises on his left cheek and arm that prompts him to sulk. Or the sudden talk-of-the-town stories of students eloping. What. (Then there are also stories of Jongin being the playboy and one shortie student extracting revenge.) It’s the idea that best friends laugh at you when you tripped on a rock. _Figuratively_ , and Kyungsoo is definitely a rock. Ouch.

 

“Hah, that’s so funny. So,” Sehun starts after his laughter dies. He hiccups, a pinky on his eye to wipe an actual tear. “How’s the dragon? Prince-sama?”

 

At the question, Jongin’s offended expression morphs into something bashful. Sehun almost chokes at the fast transition, Jongin now is lazily batting his eyelash, can’t even lift his head. The finger that formerly stabbing his naked burger is now swirling imaginary lines on the table’s surface.

 

“He punches me so hard it hurts. Even the nurses couldn’t stop him! He’s so small and cute, I mean, how does he do that? It makes me wanna hug him and protect him from the world,” and then a sigh “The boy is so precious.”

 

“For the record, the kid just actually tried to kill you.”

 

“I know, but it isn’t like he did so much.”

 

The role reverses and this time it is Sehun who is so done to the world and Jongin who could happily die rolling. For him the buds are all in full bloom and the birds poop rainbows. Whatever that means.

 

He couldn’t take it anymore, so he tells Sehun the everything: the fireworks in his ribcage, the frog in his throat ( _the fuck there’s a frog? Shut up sehun_ ), and the tingles of his skin when he gets to carry him. It’s all so surreal. But he pinches his arm and it still hurt, damn, Kyungsoo sunbae throws fist like a boxing pro. The bruises are plenty, it would be better if they are actually hickeys. And twenty minutes ago, he saw the senior passed by the cafeteria buying a Dutchmill mini, their eyes met and he immediately threw him a glare. The senior now glares at him when they meet! His existence is now acknowledged!

 

Sehun pats him in the shoulder primly, like it just meant to disturb any fallen dandruffs. “I’m so proud of you.”

 

:::

 

Do Kyungsoo is sporting a cheap band aid in the place of his right eyebrow the next time they meet. Jongin holds his own chest in relief, he totally thought Kyungsoo shaved his own brow for fun. 

 

This time it is inside the comfort room. And Jongin is taking a piss.

 

_Bzzzt._

 

The vibrations last for a few more seconds before there’s a grunt from the second cubicle, and then comes a loud static voice “HEY, AM I ON SPEAKER?”

 

“No, idiot,” says the voice _oh oh it sounds familiar_ “and hi to you, too.”

 

“I THINK I’M ON SPEAKER. THERE’S THIS ECHO I RE--”

 

“Okay, you are, Sherlock. Now what? I can’t properly zip my zipper, hurry up, what is it?”

 

There’s a pause on the other line then an accusing tone, “…SOO, WHAT IN WORLD ARE YOU DOING? IT’S STILL DAYLIGHT! I NEVER TOTALLY PEG YOU THE TYPE TO B--!!”

 

“EXCUSE YOU!”

 

An abundance of laughter shoots off the wall, drowning the sudden kick from the second cubicle that is made to open the door. An annoyed third year student emerges, his shoulders hunch at the weight of his huge red backpack and a brown paper bag occupying his left hand. Jongin sees Kyungsoo freeze right there, probably a bit mortified someone hears the phone call (because Baekhyun being loud is always embarrassing) and said person is not exactly the one to bring down his sour mood. When Kyungsoo brings his eyes down to the level of Jongin’s crotch does Jongin remembers what he is doing. His almond eyes dilate in embarrassment and in horror. He quickly turns to the other side, turning his back fully at the other boy but then doing so his piss also takes a different aim and it lands on the floor at his haste.

 

Cue some ugly squeaking from Jongin and some static laughter being supplied in the background.

 

“… _HAHAH._ JOKING. JOKING. OI, WAIT, ARE YOU NEAR A FOUNTAIN, SOO?? I HEAR—“

 

Kyungsoo almost jumps and scrambles to get the phone lying at the top of the neatly folded clothes and track pants on his paper bag. “Shut. Up. You loud mouthed barbarian!” then he clicks on something and the noise from the other line immediately gone. The rest of what Jongin hears are a series of disapproving grunts, _Whats_ and lastly _I hope you choke_.

 

Jongin is too embarrass to turn around, to face the senior because as far as he knows what transpired thirty seconds ago is not the best formula to win your crush. He doesn’t hear the door of the comfort room go open so he assumes the senior is still here.

 

Jongin still has the balls though to be surprised. Kyungsoo glares, channeling all the hate through his eyes to the tall underclassman. Jongin, deciding to be idiot of the moment, tentatively reaches his left index finger to Kyungsoo’s _missing_ eyebrow. Oh, just a band aid.

 

Kyungsoo swats the offending hand away, then realizes something, gawks and goes again to the sink to wash his hands, pumping too much apple scented hand wash. Jongin just pouts to the side.

 

“Who are you again?”

 

“H-huh?”

 

“I said your name, what is it?”

 

He will always be intimidated by those eyes, no matter how cute they are. “Um, Kim Jongin.”

 

The shorter boy makes a small grunt. He does this weird thing with his nose and upper mouth, when you scrunch them because your nose is itchy but you don’t want to scratch it with your hands. Then he shoots him a look, picking his brown bag from the floor before he speaks again, Jongin dreads what is it that he gulps, “Come with me.” A pause, “This is because you owe me big time.”

 

It turns out that the small boy will just use him for his glorious body.

 

And Kim Jongin is the willing victim. “Where should this drum set go?”

 

Kyungsoo, too annoyed, hauls the two guitars and doesn’t answer. He doesn’t make an effort for unnecessary talk to Jongin. Jongin is fine with it, he’s always peg the senior to be the type to ignore someone with or without in the mood. Their thighs and arms are already tired from climbing back and forth. The instruments aren’t exactly like feathers; they weight a lot more than he thought. The recent phone call is a bad news, Jongin assumes. He also assumes that the senior is a part of the music club, because if he isn’t, maybe he won’t be here moving big damn instruments up to the empty room in the third floor. And maybe he also won’t be so careful cradling the speakers between his arms.

 

At the notion, Jongin vaguely wonders if the boy sings. Does he smile when he hears his favorite song?

 

Kyungsoo is still there when he sprints back to the first floor room, he has a broom and he sweeps whatever dust his big eyes could see. Jongin decides to stay more, opting to arrange the chairs and the askew bulletins.

 

Jongin waits by the door after he’s done, digging his heels. If the senior is surprised, he doesn’t say it.

 

“I hope you don’t mind, but why are you at the teacher’s office the other, other day?” Jongin asks as they pass through the hallway. They are walking side by side, the shorter guy falling a little behind and the only other sound they could hear beside their footsteps are the laughter from the people practicing baseball at the distance. It occurs to him that it’s already past five in the afternoon, the school guard roving around the closing campus and by this time usually he would be at Sehun’s, playing games, staying late.

 

“I just happened to be Mr. Ling’s favorite,” Kyungsoo deadpans. He is looking straight at the hall or sometimes at the windows. Jongin realizes at this angle, his side profile still offers something worth to the eye. Kyungsoo must have sensed it, the staring, so he makes an annoyed face and grumbles. “Don’t look at me like that, I ain’t saying more.”

 

Jongin bites a chuckle, because if Kyungsoo isn’t vicious then it isn’t Kyungsoo. “Alright, alright,” he says as he waves goodbye. He stands still though, not making a move to go away. This must be the most of what he can spend with the short boy so he figures he’ll stay and watch him unclasp the lock of his bike. One day he’ll definitely say _‘see you tomorrow._ ’ His lousy palm in the air receives a small smack, a sound of plastic scrunching when he immediately tries to catch it before it falls.

 

It is a small pack of MnMs, color nougat and cute.

 

Kyungsoo immediately mounts on his bike, not turning around and briskly pedals away. He can’t say a verbal thank you so he hopes the idiot gets the message.

 

 


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Infatuation. Eew.

 

“How much longer, Park!” Byun from class 3-A yells from below the building.

A deep voicefrom the second floor booms before the figure could even reaches the window. “I can’t do it! There’s so many chairs!” Then a broom appears, being frantically waved by the complaining guy with elfish ears.

“I don’t care! Just hurry up, moron!”Baekhyun raises a fist, a lousy threatening sign for the big eared guy to quick do the sweeping. Chanyeol remains over the window, producing pathetic whines and Baekhyun has enough of this ugly sight so he looks away and turns to Kyungsoo instead. “HEY KYUNGSOO, YOU JOIN? BUBBLE TEA!”

Under the shade of a few planks stands a small boy. Its already three in the afternoon, classes are all dismissed and here two of his classmates are planning something before going home. Kyungsoo looks upfrom the index cards he is trying to count. “Baekhyun, your grammar is all over the place. And no, I’ll pass.”

“But you always pass!”

“Yeah? I didn’t notice.”

Baekhyun feigns hurt, sending puppy eyes. Ugh.

Kyungsoo is never thankful for the interruption when the red head breaks his gaze to look at a couple of fussing students go past rudely in the middle of them. And it is followed by one then two more. “What’s going on?” Baekhyun, perplexed, asks no one in particular. A girl stops for a second, half-whispering “There’s a confession!” The girl shoots a grin before turning to sprint again, “For Jongdae!”

“JONG. DAE?” Baekhyun frowns so hard, then turns to Kyungsoo with newfound horror “THE DINOSAUR? SOMEONE’S GONNA CONFESS TO A DINOSAUR?”

Kyungsoo reprimands him with a stern stare.

Baekhyun doesn’t seem to get the warning. He jumps around, eyes wide and goes to flock with the moving crowd of goats to satisfy his curiosity, ignoring the loud shouts ofChanyeolwho could almost fall out by the window.

A tap on his shoulder makes him startle. Joonmyun’s face hovers next and enunciates the word ____ with an interrogative tone at the end. Kyungsoo gets it and corrects the intonation, saying it slowly while looking at Joonmyun’s eyes. It’s like how language tutors do. He says the v’s the best, his teeth appearing and brushing along the swell of his lower lip to form the sound.

The guy lit up with a laugh, beaming, and the hand still on his shoulder slaps him twice. Joonmyun leaves with a wave and proceeds to practice the word under his breathe to perfection.

At the corner of the road next to the shed is a lanky guy with blonde hair looking at Kyungsoo. Again. He has seen him standing by his locker by the time the bell rang, if he’s not mistaken. This is getting suspicious, plus the student has looks that reminds him of his troublemaker cousins back in their province. When the lanky guy realizes he is discovered, he jolts and backpedals, almost tripping backwards. Kyungsoo huffs, opting to ignore and resume dragging his bike to the school gate.

“Excuse me?”

There. It takes only a few strides of this student to get where Kyungsoo is but he is already perspiring. Kyungsoo raises a brow at that. He feels there’s a follow up question but the guy is either dumb or shit scared to say anything more. His too tall stature doesn’t help him much. Hmn, shaky eyes, sweaty palms. He is suddenly reminded of the growing crowd hungrily sneaking a peek at the back of Science lab.

_Is this…Is this a c-confession?!_

Quickly, Kyungsoo gapes. He adapts the face of someone with great constipation, he can’t smile and his big eyes narrows at the horrors of what the boy might say. He wants to shut him up.

“Uh, Kyungsoo sunbae—“

_Look, shit, he knows my name!_

“—have—“

_Shut up!_

“—you—“

“NO--!”

“—HADCHICKENPOXBEFORE?” He hesitates and tumbles the words all at once.

“….o.”

Kyungsoo’s nose twitches. He thinks the blonde would ask the hardest of questions, but this one… “Chicken pox?” …isn’t what he expects.

“Chicken pox.”

Thank goodness. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes up in the heavens and releases a very deep breath. He pats his heart, mentally scolding it for being a scaredy-cat. Also, that’s embarrassing, assuming himself to be the receiving end of a confession. It’s mortifying!The guy opposite him has his lips pressed in a thin line, occasionally looking at the ground or behind his shoulder. Kyungsoo thinks he has seen the guy somewhere. Probably a new spawn of the newspaper club? Sent here to throw random questions at random people? Taeyeon-noona should stop approving her clubmate’s lame ideas sometimes.

Kyungsoo coughs, willing his embarrassment to go away. “Um, yes, why.”

The heavens probably opened up for this guy. “Really?! I haven’t had, you know!” He exclaims, color of the cheeks returning from being deathly white a while ago. He goes to pat his own heart, too, sighing heavily in relief. Some random copycat we got here. As if he remembers something, he jumps and rummages his bag.

“I’m Oh Sehun,” the lanky guy introduces himself late, sparring confused Kyungsoo a glance. Then he flashes a polaroid of a tanned boy, face visibly displeased at his traffic light costume—oh, its Hercules.

“Do you happen to know this guy?”

“Yes…why?”

Oh Sehun boy doesn’t answer, instead he pulls out a bundle of notes and hands it to Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo watches him with dread when Sehun gleefully adds an almost crumpled graph paper on the stack and another stapled yellow paper. He thinks he knows where this is going. No, no, no.

Then tall Sehun clasps one of his hands and says with a grave tone of his voice, “Listen,hyung—“

_“Hyung?”_

“—that ugly picture will be your pass. Their door has the color of burnt sienna and they have a potted plant almost the size of you named gumamela. His mother is a sweetheart and completely doesn’t look like the crocodile pass the door. Please don’t be surprise when you see a crocodile.”

Kyungsoo sends him a disbelieving look. He is reluctant to put pieces together and understand the blabbering idiot. “What the hell.”

“Hyung, I owe you my life.”

That’s it and Sehun squeezes his hand before he lets go. Then he sprints away so fast Kyungsoo can’t get the word out his throat. Sehun turns before disappearing by the school gate, posing a stiff salute and a bow so low it his hair could brush the ground.

That is not comforting!

:::

 

Oh Sehun, that bastard, is a liar. First of all, wow, the boy really got the ugliest penmanship he has ever seen. The messy map he drew at the back of the polaroid is wrong. Plus this street is Papaya, not Banana. It served so much inconvenience to Kyungsoo, wandering streets looking for the Kims like a lost child for fifteen minutes. Second, excuse you, the gumamela isn’t almost his size! The potted plant only reaches his armpit! Kyungsoo thinks he is gravely insulted.

Kyungsoo doesn’t feel too small standing near Kim Jongin’s mother. At least Sehun isn’t lying when he says they don’t look the same. Kim Taehee has the youthful appearance of someone in mid-twenties and not nearing forty. She’s all fair, thin lips and tall nose.

“You’re like a cactus,” she says as she ushers eagerly a timid Kyungsoo inside the house, “because you’re cute.” But they are both weird, he thinks. She has this very enthusiastic grin when she opens the door and finds a boy that’s absolutely not Oh Sehun. It’s not Kim Jongin’s best friend, nor the basketball captain nor the Chicago-exchange-student she sometimes hates to see in the house simply because them casually stretching their arms would result in a broken lightbulb. Their place is not exactly for giants—her son included.

Kyungsoo is a terribly awkward guest, fiddling his fingers on his shirt and eyes travelling around the house at a slow pace. Because the only time he has ever been in someone else house has been two years ago at Minseok’s. They are both taciturn and it was uncomfortable. Now, mother Kim instructs him to stay, wait, the soup is nearly done. He badly wants to go home! The notes are delivered, his job is done! He also doesn’t have the heart to make stories when he’s asked how her son at school isbecause heck Kim Jongin and Kyungsoo aren’t exactly friends.

Someone races and the wooden stairs is creaking fast at the weight of Kim Jongin. “Whoa, the notes!” exclaims the rather boisterous voice. He maneuvers around their plastic table and nears the sofa, plopping there with occasional grunt, afraid the blisters would pop at his reckless action. They are on his back, he can’t exactly see them. He has some here at his back and a few at thighs. Oh, the cruelty, he can’t spin and dance around as much as he likes.

He remembers his best friend swears at him at the text, spitting curse words, refusing to come over their house and he quotes ‘don’t spread the ugliness Kim, keep it.’ So Jongin guffaws, looking down at the ugly handwritings, and think himself as some really irresistible dude.

“Mom, where is he?!” asks Jongin brightly, spreading his long arms, despite the intermittent itchiness all over the skin. The only driving force not to scratch them is his older sister’s sure ball laughing once the blisters leave their damn marks. And he never likes history.

Taehee emerges from the kitchen holding a huge bowl, the contents of it steaming hot. 

“You will not cuddle! And sit up straight, Jongin, we have a guest.”

Jongin looks over her shoulder, craning his neck expecting to see familiar face coming out behind the divider. “It’s just Sehun.”

“It’s not him. And please Sehun isn’t a guest anymore, he’s practically like your cousin.” She deadpans and swats Jongin’s hand away when it hovers nonchalantly at the other bowl. Then she dashes half-hissing to the windows and opens the closed curtains, scolding Jongin while she’s at it. “Stop shutting the curtains every time you come down, the blisters won’t die if you expose it with darkness.” Mothers. They have their own way of showing their concern. She straightens up and then softly calls somewhere “Come on now here, dear.”

When no one appears after a few beats, his mother personally goes to the kitchen and fondly drags a very cute cupid towards the table, near Jongin. _Oh shit, crap—what the heck is an angel doing in this dungeon?!_

Jongin unattractively splutters bits of chicken shreds. “S-sunbae?!” Coughs.

Jongin is quick to duck and hide at the ends of the table, earning bumps and a few painful grunts in the process. Not suave. Ouch, damn you chicken pox. I do not love you chickens anymore. When he fantasized this scenario, he knows it didn’t involve him sporting unattractive blisters on his face and a hand over his eyes because he feels like crying. Like right now. It’s so hot here, darn it, where’s his hoodie?! He needs to flee!

“Mother!” Jongin squawks.

“No worries, honey, he said he had chicken pox before.”

“In summer in third grade,” a soft voice supplies. Jongin whines.

“Yeah, in his third grade.”

“That’s not the point!” a lot more squawking, kicking his feet like a child because when he peeks to assess where he could run, he finds Kyungsoo standing by the stairs. He murmurs so sad, curling even more, he doesn’t think anyone would hear him, “I feel so ugly right now.” He ducks even more under the table, where the light doesn’t reach him and if ever he cries no one will see.

Bye-bye my love.

It is quite and Jongin hates it. Because he hates the jump of his heart when the other person in the room sighs. He thinks the sudden sigh means a lot of things. Negative things probably. Jongin bites his upper lip.

“Relax, it’s just me, Jongin.”

Kyungsoo sunbae really doesn’t understand. The reason is because it’s you, Jongin wants to say. His heart breaks at that.

Their sofa dips at the weight of someone. Jongin doesn’t dare to look yet. All he sees are a pair of socked feet under the table. Is sunbae going to stay for a while?! He whines low, a distress call he’s hoping his mom would hear and interpret into kind words.Please leave ugly Jongin alone. But then someone coughs, clears their throat and Jongin shifts in his place.

“It is contagious, yes,” the older boy starts, voice obviously trickling with softness around the edges.Jongin releases the breath he has been holding along with fear and tension. “People would avoid you, don’t get sad when they do,” If Jongin is a wild brown bear and Kyungsoo is a hunter human, Jongin the bear most likely wouldn’t run. Here is peace, this is calming. “I’ve been to the stage many years before so don’t get afraid that you’ll pass the disease on me. I’m not saying that a person who acquired the disease before will not get it the second time. It could happen, but that’s really rare.”

While the whole ‘contagious’ thing isn’t exactly what’s Jongin’s concern, he is by far thankful the senior is too calm and level-headed. Because it’s true, he half-expects him to scream bloody eew and whatever synonyms to disgusting there is. Kyungsoo proves him wrong by gently laying a curious hand over his forehead, sending the itchiness away by something soothing and warm. “They are almost dried. I hope you would stop scratching them. Warm bath would help.”

In this new light, he sees the boy speaking like a future teacher or a caring nurse. A nurse preferably, because they say a doctor will prescribe you meds, but a nurse will help you through it. Maybe Jongin has been used to the senior either throwing a glare or frustrated words that the soft, patient voice today surprises him. His heart thuds a beat. And for the record, this is the most he has said to him in one go.

Too many reasons to fall in love with Do Kyungsoo.

So Kim Jongin doesn’t feel so ugly anymore. His expression lightens considerably that he unhides the upper half of his face just as the warm fingers retracts from his forehead. Shyly, his eyebrows sail high as he scans their house—his mother pouring juice in a glass and Kyungsoo reverting to his default face, frowns and all, when he flips a notebook open. Jongin smiles and the table hides it.

“There is really something wrong about the penmanship.”

:::

It takes him almost three weeks for full recovery. When Jongin shows up at school and hands his medical certificate at their adviser, the said teacher gawks and pats Jongin for any signs of chicken pox. There isn’t any. And if it’s even possible, Jongin is glowing.

You never really know the importance of mundane things until something takes them back from you. So he smiles at the hallway, at the new bubblegum under his desk and even at Tao. People are still afraid to come near him—Sehun included, that narcissist—until Kang Seulgi punches him in the arm for a sin he didn’t actually do.

“I didn’t steal your lip tint!”

“The hell? I’m not accusing you, dumbo.” Seulgi crosses her arms, annoyed. “This punch is long overdue. You’re not supposed to cancel plans just because one of your students miraculously has a crush on you. We’re so late with practice, Jongin!”

Ah, that he admit he is guilty.

Plus, he just came back from being sick. Maybe he should talk to a senior in dance club.

He tells Seulgi to keep calm, breathe, dumb Jongin also points out her nostrils are flaring, two coins could fit. It earns him a jab and an ugly laugh from Johnny saying it’s not the best word to say to a girl. Jongin should know, he has two sisters. He has been their personal punching bag for years. Jongin, though, can’t point out where he is wrong.

The bell has rung and it’s their favourite subject: recess. Ah, the cafeteria, he misses this, the place where all the sweaty people come together.

“Hey, isn’t that your crush?” Sehun casually says, pointing the guy with his mouth.

Jongin, the hysterical, ducks at the level of his shoulder and put a finger across his mouth, “SSSSHhh!” then he whispers, “He’s not supposed to know!” meanwhile said friend puts a distance between their heads, already hyper-aware of the spray of spit near his second button.

“Geez, Jongin. Calm the spray.”

Jongin silently watches the cute senior from afar as he crumples the empty Dutchmill cartoon and dumps it smoothly at the narrow garbage can without looking. It’s so cool. Jongin waits the senior to notice him, in his mind he is chanting a loop of _look here_. He has this ready smile on his face but then a surge of students block his view. By the time he stands up to look, Kyungsoo is already at the outside walking across another building.

“What, got a heartache, Romeo?”

“Juliet didn’t see me.”

 

The more Jongin looks at it, the more he realizes Kyungsoo is everywhere. Kyungsoo seems to be an image that will always appear when he chances to turn his head somewhere. He picks up his voice from the crowd, his name appears quiet easily to find on the board that houses hundred different names.

He is the image he sees behind closed lids. The one he could now associate with cut out hearts and short quotes in tumblr.

The initial conception of Jongin about dealing with crushes is wrong. Wrong. Wrong. He thinks a year of admiring Kyungsoo sunbae from afar is enough. He is a sophomore now, and if the constant admirers and letters he receives in his locker are the indication that he doesn’t look too bad, it’s only fitting for him to be brave and take a leap. Kyungsoo has seen him at his worst and he believes the senior doesn’t have a heart of steel. And if he has, steel could melt, he knows.

Brave hearts conquer fears.

This he holds as he jumps out of the bus and runs toward a path where his heart knows.

Jongin sees Kyungsoo one day by the waiting shed, when the senior is currently having a mental debate if he’ll buy the Science module or just blindly put faith on his classmate’s reports. There are somanythings to stress about—weekly allowance, modules, everyday lunch.Now, he also has to think about his elder brother’s meds. Kyungsoo shoves his hand into his pocket, pouting at the little amount he could caress on his fingers. He doesn’t have much right now. Projects cost a lot, even more when the teachers are hella demanding with the sources. Right now, the weekly modules and his grumbling stomach don’t help to lessen his worries.

“Sunbae!” someone in the far distance cries, beginning of quick footsteps tunes in his ears. When Kyungsoo appears to not have heard him, it cries louder. “Kyungsoo hyung!”

He has this smirk he pulls quite endearingly when the senior turns the slightest to look and greet him with a glare. Jongin doesn’t stop running, even with the closing proximity between them, he runs with open arms and Kyungsoo could only dilate his pupils in disbelief before he gets to be enveloped and dragged along with Jongin’s momentum. The underclassman just outright hugs him. What the. Kyungsoo gasps so fashionably late and the sound gets trapped on the cotton fabric, on Jongin’s blue jacket that smells a lot like manly sweat and menthol patches.

“Sunbae,” Jongin says as they stop in their tracks. He lets go of him, gingerly, affectionately, before the short boy could do some pushing. When he gets a look at his peripheral, wow, he really did carried Kyungsoo away from his original spot. 

A swatting hand on his arm that’s still on Kyungsoo’s shoulder has him snapping back to earth, stopping him from momentary musing. “What are you doing?” comes the voice, vigilant and ready to snap. Jongingazes down and deems he likes this angle, the vantage point of looking down at him while the other looks up. It makes Do Kyungsooa lot less intimidating.

“Our team gets a pass on semi,” Jongin breathes out. The smile he is wearing since the beginning only gets a tad wider.

“So you just wanted to brag?” cutie senior questions incredulously.

Jongin belts out a good-natured laugh and he almost squeezes the annoyed boy between his arms for the second time. The cuteness is too much. “Let’s get some lunch, sunbae.”

Kyungsoo visibly freezes. Then stonily he says, “No.”

Jongin in his blissful state will not take no for an answer. He will always voice with a whine or an overconfident one to win. He laughs while Kyungsoo tries to punch him. Since when did this tan guy get this too cocky? They aren’t even friends, if he recall correctly.He voices out his complaints, accompanying it with physical assaults because he doesn’t want to have lunch with this guy. He is somewhat like Baekhyun: persistent and clingy.

And they aren’t friends.

Kyungsoo just shakes his head, “Jongin” he says and attempts to say something more, appease the sudden chummy guy that really he could look for someone more willing. But he added nothing else, the air is silent, letting the sentence die.

Jongin answers him with a small smile. He is all quite and kind of heartbroken. Kyungsoo can’t be so cruel. He grips his pocket again and then sighs.

He sighs heavy, a little dramatically, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders and there are ten reasons to throw rocks on a river. He glares at Jongin and wonders why of all people he chooses to pester him.  Kyungsoo, a genius but kind of slow to certain matters, will never know the importance of this, his silent acceptance, until so many moments later. But now, he looks up and true to Kyungsoo fashion he is grumbling as he leads the way.

They end up going to the nearest fast food chain because it’s cheap, it’s near, and the senior will burst if it’s anything expensive like Pancake House. Kyungsoo is fifth in line on the counter, scanning the menus over the head of the servers as he grips the inside of his pocket. He licks his dry lips and elbows the sophomore.

The sophomore stutters a response and clears his throat as if his mind is somewhere else. Kyungsoo doesn’t feel the need to check, he’s more concern how much the fries and burgers would cost.

“U-um, let’s take the burger steak, extra rice. Some large fries and sundaes.”

Oh, he is doomed. Kyungsoo opens his mouth in horror because the boy even has the nerves to order fuckin extra rice. The hell. “No,” he says indignantly, straight-face. The tall boy unconsciously edges an inch far away when he realizes how baleful the senior is looking at him. Kyungsoo curtly shakes his head, “Just take fries and coke and be happy with it.”

“What? No! That’s not fun!”

“Who says it should be fun?”

“Come on, sunbae, it’s a celebration!”

Kyungsoo snorts, he doesn’t even get to celebrate when he took first place in overall grading last quarter. “I’m paying so don’t complain.” In Kyungsoo’s attitude, somehow he should find bickering with non-friends to be uncomfortable. One look at the gaping boy and strangely he feels comfortable enough to grant him a punch. Such an ungrateful brat.

“You. Are. Not. Paying.” Jongin pins him with a look of utter disbelief.

“I am older,” Kyungsoo replies plainly.

“So what?”

At his squawk, Kyungsoo shots him a look as if he is an idiot. The line moves. Kyungsoo waves a dismissive hand as he steps forward, trying to drop the conversation but Jongin sadly doesn’t think the same. He comes to the senior, wedging himself between other students. He totally ignores the noise, the rude remarks to focus on him. “Is there a rule like that?” Jongin is challenging him. He is so unamused and when he seesKyungsoo picking on his own wallet, Jongin’s hand is quick to slap the hand away and holds onto his wrist instead.

“That principle of yours,” his face contorts “that should be shared with Jongdaehyung.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t appreciate the slap but gives him a stare in favour of the newly brought name. “You know Jongdae?”

Jongin raises a brow and before he could retort, a voice already reaches them—piercing their ears for attention.

“Kyungsoo? Do Kyungsoo? No way!” it is Baekhyun, sprinkling his daily interaction with dramatic flares, and he’s not even in the drama club. Well, they are friends, Kyungsoo and Baekhyun—no thanks to Shindongsunbae—but Kyungsoo as known to many is like a hermit. He doesn’t believein flimsy subjects such ashoroscopesbut when he stumbles upon one and read as it says Capricorn refuses to entertain stupidity, he can’t help but acknowledge the article with a nod. Not that Baek is actually stupid because he tops the rank—oh you get the drift.

“Baek, sssh.”

“What. I’m offended. You should have told me!” it’s just a start, Baek gestures wildly, spouting a lot of words and Kyungsoo’s huge eyes freezes in worry. Chanyeol enters his peripheral, calling for his attention across the room as he waves his two straight hands in the air. He has soggy fries in one hand and is just waiting for the drinks. Of course, they are a constant duo. The line moves. Another step forward.

Then Baekhyun gasps.

Now, gasps could mean a lot of things, exhausted act breathing or sudden dramatic revelations. The sudden agitated boy has just realized the existence of a long tanned appendage that is holding Kyungsoo’s wrist. Up, up his eyes go. A pair of brown eyes stares back, waiting, if not curious. Kyungsoo gets the gist of what’s happening and tugs his wrist back.

“I thought we’re friends,” the red-head looks and pouts at the frowning senior-buddy, he’s yelling now “MY HEART HURTS HERE, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.” This entertains a lot of heads and Kyungsoo hisses.

_“Baekhyun!”_

Something in Jongin clicks, it’s his turn to gasp. Too caught up in excitement, words meant to be a whisper turns into a holler when delivered into the sudden interested ear, “Isn’t he the _loud-mouthed barbarian?”_

Baek’s jaw drops. He parrots, “Loud mouthed barbarian?”

He jumps and blurts, “Uh, hyung’s words not mine!” Idiot.

Baekhyun drops a punch on Kyungsoo’s stomach. Kyungsoo the receiver, curls a little and Kim Jongin’s eyes sees red.

“I’ll pester you first thing in the morning, Soo!” there’s scrambling then he hears barba- _Baekhyun_ loudly announce with an upturn nose over the sea of grumbling students, a baffled Chanyeol in tow to the exit. Then, “I’ll judge you next time, sophomore!”

Jongin gapes, too many words he wants to say but the same time can’t and everybody at the back is now hissing. They are holding up the line and the counter server is already tending to a one customer before their turn. At the hype of all things, Jongin hears a giggle. Then an actual laugh, deep voice and seeming calculated how many formed ‘ha’ would go out the mouth.

The senior throws his head back, hand still clutching on stomach as remnants of mirth remains. He glances at the outside, the place behind the glass windows and shakes his head. There are too much Kyungsoo is oblivious about, like how he doesn’t know one smile could grant wishes and that someone is hoping this to be a date. Jongin for that moment is stuck at the blissful hour. The world only resumes on its clock when he hears a faint, almost distant “just fries please, take out.”

 

 

Jongin mostly remembers the crinkles of his eyes, the mouth opened a little wide he could see the pink tongue inside and the lifts of his baby cheeks. Here in his very eyes, the human personification of cuteness. Jongin counts it and he already sees Kyungsoo laughing at least three times: at the fast food chain, at the neighborhood’s park and at the school third floor stairs.

It’s still a mystery what is it in that barbarian’s punch that triggered a laugh from Kyungsoo. The second time was when he almost got bitten by the cute, fluffy dog he was trying to pet. The puppy chased him angrily and Kyungsoo silently laughed at the comic scene. Is he harboring a crush on a psycho? A masochist-sadist who likes when other people cries? It’s almost disappointing when Jongin throws a joke and Kyungsoo would just sneer. The heck?

He collects information every day. Words not from Kyungsoo himself, because the boy just wouldn’t speak unless necessary.

Befriending loud Baekhyun and uncoordinated Chanyeol goes with the deal of knowing-more-about-soo-101.

_-he is a scholar and his father is a carpenter._

_-he’s a little mean, but people think he’s just joking._

_-don’t repeat your words three times. Weapons are all over the corner. Beware of consequences. (I’m a living, constant victim hehe)_

_-what do they say about kittens? They’re cute but deadly_

_-I think he’s never been to a cinema. Take him there some time. A date._

“W-what? But I’m not—” Jongin blanches and chokes on a spaghetti strand. Because befriending Chan-Baek also means accepting their initiation—free meal rights.

“Oh, sorry. Are you trying to be discreet?”

Somehow, he looks over the possibility that Baekhyun would noticed. It’s a lazy day after spending arcade games and he might or might not have brought up Kyungsoo’s name thrice. Chanyeol, on the other hand, is too preoccupied to know the shift of the conversation, carelessly laughing over the compilation of kpop idol’s cracking voices on youtube. In a true Chanyeol fashion he laughs wildly, sending his fries unintentionally into Baek’s black soda. “Jongin dude, check this out!”

Jongin will never admit anything, so he nervously grumbles and picks up fries. Also ignoring Chanyeol. “Hah, discreet. Never had encountered the word. Do you even know how that spells?” It’s bland to say the least and when he forces himself to look at Baekhyun (because why go nervous when you aren’t guilty? Go natural!) what he sees is a sly smirk. Nothing more than that. That’s all before Baek decides to drop the knowing eyes and join Chanyeol at his antics and be goofy.The act never makes Jongin calm down.

 

1:45 pm.

One time, Jongin joins Kyungsoo in an impromptu study session. He brings two instant noodles seafood-flavor in cup with him and shoves the one to the other. Kyungsoo always perceives the tanned boy weird and kind of random.

“What are the things you hate?”

“Everything.”

“Everything? What about that seafood noodles, you hate that?”

“No.”

“See? You also like something. Do you like me?”

Jongin is weird and random and if it isn’t because of that he’d think the boy is flirting. With him. Major eyerolls. “Keep that up and I’ll stab you with my plastic fork.”

That is four hours ago. Weirdly, he remembers that conversation when Jongin bumps into Kyungsoo on the way to his next class. Why that stupid convo? He doesn’t know. But Jongin’s the kind of student that seems to be always around. He takes his books and cradles them, saying it’s okay because he’s also going the same way. Kyungsoo argues, he isn’t weak and the room isn’t that far. Jongin wins however. Darn the way he pouts too much, persistent like a leech. “I’m so gonna punch you” is between the shorter’s teeth.

Jongin breathes a laugh, matching the elder’s footsteps: left, right, left, right.

No words are exchanged while they walk. The breeze is gentle as it goes and the chattering of the students permeates through the windows. They are like this when Kyungsoo thinks about the last flowchart problem, what’s after the number three and the triangle. He’s diligent like that, always looking ahead of the studies and never always what’s in front. Pair it with his problem in the eyes of some sort and there he goes almost crushing on someone else’s nose – _Sorry!_ —only to be saved by Kim Jongin’s fast arm around his shoulder. “Oops.”

Jongin ducks and peers into Kyungsoo’s eyes. “Try not to think too much okay?”

Kyungsoo scrunches his nose in defeat, already caught in a moment of spacing out.He could deny but the underclassman would surely argue. His defense would only be lame. However, that doesn’t mean he couldn’t snort. The sophomore trying to lecture the junior, Kyungsoo huffs.

They round a corner and continue walking. Kyungsoo, learns this from previous experience, draws his eyes from left to right, now actually paying attention to his surroundings. There’s still a few standing outside the classrooms even if the bell is about to ring. There’s an open door, at II-C, people filter in and out of the room. “Oh, Jongin!”

Kyungsoo cranes his head.

It’s a boy, bright hair and tall, smacking palms with Jongin. Taemin it is because Jongin mentions a name before saying _Told you he died in the end_. Then a laugh that’s so Jongin when Taemin nudges his shoulder with fake resentment as they pass. “And Kyungsoo hi!”

Kyungsoo answers with a tight-lipped smile, quickly turning to look over his own shoulder with difficulty. Taemin waves, pivoting his gaze back to the tanned boy and Kyungsoo wonders about this.Taemin disappears after a smile and a bad produced wink.

“I told him about you.”

The sentence alone could produce a hundred questions coming from Kyungsoo. For the voice warm and unhurried, another ten. Kyungsoo squints his eyes at him, at the sharp jaw he sees instead of forehead and nose. He finds why is it so difficult to turn because he just realizes the sophomore still has his arm around his narrow shoulders. The tanned fingers and thumb ease a slow up and down pattern on Kyungsoo’s clothed upper arm and the action could easily raise twenty questions.

“Ow!” Jongin yelps. He rubs the pinched part on his rib, pouting when the senior glares. Kyungsoo is not a smooth talker so when his words and tongue fail him, he resorts in being physical. It’s easier this way, because the underclassman immediately unwraps his arms and jumps away at the fair distance.This way, the scent of mint goes away, too.

“Give me my books.”

“No way.” Jongin grimaces, “You pinched me.”

There it is again, his pout. This is getting childish. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, preparing a bout of nagging you would usually hear from your loving mom, but Jongin surprises him. The younger guy has already begun a dead-on sprint, long legs travelling on high-speed together with his books and Kyungsoo could only gape. Jongin whirls to face him and the second their eyes meet, Jongin bellows a laugh that attracts more heads. Kyungsoo doesn’t linger, he too runs and yells.

The short moment, one minute and four seconds, is indeed embarrassing. He positively stepped on someone else’s foot and a passing by teacher scolds them not to run. Jongin only laughs, like he always does. “Who’s embarrassing?” he says as he bops a finger on his nose. The chattering inside the class and the screeching chairs can be loudly heard few steps before the door.

Kyungsoo gives a snort, trying to look offended. This is the part where Kyungsoo would finally enter the classroom and let Jongin go on his way. Except that when does just that, he thinks Jongin is a little like JoonHyung and he’s sending Kyungsoo home like he does to Bok Joo. But Kyungsoo quickly dismisses the idea because it’s ridiculously absurd and it’s Jongin, the school’s dance hero and two girls have just winked at him at the span of twenty-five minutes. Who is Kyungsoo? He’s not a fuckin weightlifting fairy.

Kyungsoo enters the classroom at the back door just when someone seizes his hand and shoves three books at it. He inhales a breath, holding it. “Here.” It’s Jongin’s usual tone, nothing out of ordinary but Kyungsoo swears a knot in his stomach twists. Shoulders tense, he takes the books tight and stomps grumpily away. Away from Jongin who hovers like an idiot. The younger might think he is angry but in reality, Kyungsoo is just greatly taken a back, bewildered.

He strides fast to the assigned chair, fingers around the backpack strap tight on his hold. There are three occupied seats before him. To the left is the window and there’s Baekhyun on the front row. He drops the bag first and whirls around because Doyoung taps him about unfinished history reports.

Kyungsoo does a double take and there really is a sore thumb.  Jongin still stands by the hallway, leaning at the wall.Kyungsoo would be embarrassed if he were him—being out there in display, feast for all eyes to see. But Jongin is an enigma, a confident person under boring white school uniform.Having gotten his attention, Jongin breaks the cool image, uncrosses his armsslowlyand smiles—a smile that shows no teeth, just pursed lips, somehow soft and silly.

Kyungsoo’s stomach tightens then the bell rings.

 

:::

Over the days, Jongin has somehow grown his skin considerably thick. Likewise, over the days, Kyungsoo often gets headaches. Jongin is just really touchy sometimes that Kyungsoo likes to throw things at him and scream—“Gaah!” His constant staring somewhere in his direction doesn’t help either.

The tightening of his stomach doesn’t happen often anymore. He figures he just has to steel his stomach when Jongin nears and he will be okay. Kyungsoo isn’t an idiot. He has proved it by instinct and by the help of accidentally reading Yerim’s personal journal last month (she likes Minho by the way) that these things, the weird Jongin- effect, have something to do with blooming infatuation. Eew. Kyungsoo has never imagined this to happen.

At first, of course, he denies.

Because what is there to like in a boisterous, kiddie-like Kim Jongin beside that he is tall and friendly? Compare him to Chanyeol and they’re almost toe to toe—both impose danger to the ones beside them when they laugh. Kyungsoo has been slapped, hit and has been highly exposed to high decibels of piercing laughter. Jongin is slightly dark unlike Irene, or Joonmyun—the models of school. He sweats too much, has rap songs and metallic mixes stored in playlist. It’s loud, noisy. Jongin draws stuff better than him. He is a slacker in studying. He is younger.

So when a Kim Jongin wordlessly slips into the chair across from him—when the place is absolutely secluded, when it’s in a library that holds too much tables and empty chairs for the student body to fill in—Kyungsoo is just so confuse. Nevertheless, he throws him the normal greeting—a glare.

The underclassman pours attention in a reference book split in half, something about Incas and civilization long lost before their times. He doesn’t bother to return the glare; he wet his lips and reads. Kyungsoo could kick him, push him to be somewhere else. He couldn’t though, words die in his throat. There is too much wonderment the still boy could call forth and Kyungsoo is just so lost, bewildered at the thought of reaching out and see if the sophomore’s bangs are really that soft or just enchanted to look that way.

Which is fuckin weird, by the way.

Kyungsoo groans. _Help me_.

The realization that Jongin might get a wind about his feelings (again, eew, what the) scares him. Granted that he knows infatuation is temporary (like he is just waiting, anticipating for one nasty Jongin trait that will surely turns him off) the idea of him knowing about Kyungsoo’s self-consciousness at times and the double-beating of his traitor heart when his ears so much as hear a mention of his name are enough for him to run away and change schools. He has come to the point of ditching lunch at the cafeteria just so Jongin wouldn’t see him.

There are so much things he can’t explain.

Hiding.

Waiting.

Crashing.

One day, Kyungsoo moves away from the second floor window, lower lip harshly caught between his teeth. He leaves the image of the sunlight streaming from above the clouds, hitting a broad back and black imitation Adidas shoes on the grounds of the two story building. Sweeping the messy hair out of his eyes, Jongin laughs at the joke the pretty freshman told him about, her free hand pinching the end of his sleeve.

Kyungsoo calmly tries a wave at the smiling Yixing upon bumping onto him into their next class but feels a prick of warmth underneath his eyes afterwards. His stomach drops.Crap _, crap._

 

:::

There’s some sudden feet on the stage and the owner taps Kyungsoo’s shoulder who almost hit him with a fist at the shock.

“Ah, hyung?!” comes a whiny complain from behind the huge illustration board when they almost drop it. Jongin is spooked. He immediately peeks around, ignoring Kyungsoo’s scolding for a second, to completely validate his assumption. “Sehun?! W-what are you doing here?”

“Oh, Jongin, nice timing. Here hold this.” Jongin, at impulse, jumps quickly over the gap between them when Sehun lifts the huge board away from himself. Kyungsoo hollers at that, switching his alarmed eyes between the blonde underclassman who is grinning satisfactorily and to the wobbling board over two tanned arms. That board will play a huge role as a canvas, it is not a toy.

“What are you doing?” Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows hard, eyes straight on the blonde guy and his two hands darting out to hover at the board for almost support.“I specifically told you to—“

“Hyung--” Sehun interrupts. He’s getting expert at this.

“ _Hyung?_ ” Jongin squawks.

“—please don’t get too mad when I say I have a dental appointment I forgot to tell you about. I’ll get back as soon as I can. Please, kindly use this friend’s muscles in the meantime.” Sehun says this unaffectedly as he picks up and waves Jongin’s wobbly right arm in the air. Kyungsoo is about to explode. Jongin grumbles an attractive _what the hell._ Sehun is a friend and he deems himself as sensible, claiming to know what to say at the right moment at the right person. On top of that, he doesn’t want to be swimming in between the rising tension.Let Jongin handle that. “Live the love story, Mr. Romance. Your damsel is stressed,” he whispers conspiringly to Kim Jongin’s ears and off he goes. His feet are light, dancing put into use, as he hurriedly tiptoes around the clattered art mess and disappears into the vastness of the field.

He leaves two awkward souls up in that stage. One is wheezing, not accepting the half-assed apology. The second one is standing stonily, not quite understanding why it’s suddenly hard to dart his eyes around.

Confused?

Right now, Jongin just wants to talk to Kyungsoo, pretend oblivious that the smaller isn’t quite meeting his eyes and hasn’t acknowledge his presence yet.

It turns out that Kyungsoo sunbae isn’t part of the music club. He is actually the diligent secretary of the art club. Why he was hauling instruments last time is still a mystery. People go to him sometimes, do their stuffs, their projects etc and Kyungsoo gets paid for it. He knows his hyung is a full scholar but there are still issues Kyungsoo has to solve. And that sometimes he only gets by with a petty eleven-peso flat burger and cold water for lunch.

“Is this for biology?” he asks as he squats, eyeing the pictures to be cut out and the colors for paint. There’s too many. “I can always lend a hand, you know?”

His kind offer meets silence. Kyungsoo busies himself with his large pouch, fingers disappearing inside to rummage markers and glues.

His sunbae doesn’t really talk too much, he understands that. It’s his nature. But Jongin already has muttered some words and it’s only right to give acknowledgement to the speaker, it doesn’t have to be a word. A short glance would do. Jongin never know the intensity of hurt until today that he is ignored.

He sighs and picks up a board, cut in a precise shape of circle not oblong. “I like you better when you’re talking,” confesses Jongin to the air offhandedly, and it’s not meant to be heard but the soft wind delivers it to the others ears anyway.

“Jo—,” a hiccup comes and Kyungsoo can’t seem to say the name without feeling lightheaded. The name alone could make him tongue-tied. “What are you doing here?” so he wants to blame Jongin for the weary in his voice, a mixture of angry and hurt. It’s not easy pretending he breathes in a world-jongin-free and that the said man can be found standing sometimes just by the corner waiting for someone. Someone pretty probably.

Jongin is now neatly stacking the papers by colors. He lowers his eyes, and replies like a lovesick person. “To see you.” Then there’s a pause, “So how are you?”

If Kyungsoo hasn’t blushed by the time the conversation started, well it’s safe to say he is totally red by now. His cheeks tingle. “Stahp.” _Gaah!Where did that come from?_

He squeezes his eyes close for a second and actually turns to look back at him, trying to be unfazed by the bravery of his eyes. Too late. The warmth has seeped its way to his cheeks. “Can’t you stop appearing everywhere you like?  I have a life. I know you do, too. There are sometimes I just want to be on my own, don’t you see?”

Jongin blinks. And he doesn’t know how good looking he is.

“Oh, I didn’t know… but just now Seh--” he earns a glare and clamps up. He proceeds to plop down instead, actions tentative all the while looking straight at the still standing boy. “Then, I’ll just keep quite.”

“No, Jongin!” There he says it, damn the butterflies. Screw you. But Jongin has a peculiar smile pressed on his lips which may or may not an increasing torture because _help Kyungsoo_ , he is beginning to see Jongin in a different light and he isn’t sure how to handle them.

This is hard. For someone who falls in _like_ for the first time, this sure is hard. He sighs, “Go. Review your notes. Practice your dance routine. Hangout with Sehun, I’m sure he lied.” Be somewhere else.

If it isn’t the more blatant request for him to leave him alone, then Kyungsoo doesn’t know.

“It’s better here though,”

“You. Are. bothering me.”

“No, I’ll be the extension of your arms,”

Ugh, Kyungsoo grimaces. It sounds like a wedding vow.

Its three in the afternoon, classes are done saved for remedials. School grounds now sound likes a park and if he looks at the bigger picture, dons a magnifying glass he’ll see the way Baekhyun would have. Instead, he’s caught in embarrassment and anxiety when the younger later articulates that Kyungsoo is doing a sophomore’s biology project. His words hold no weight of deprecation but Kyungsoo still feels the self-consciousness, wondering how he knows. If along with the knowledge, comes also the fact that his father’s contract with the company is about to get expired and that his only brother is coughing out blood now at a hospital.

His eyes sting. He bites his lip and pretends to be busy, squatting to chuck the materials back to a green eco bag.

“Can you tell me something, Kyungsoo?” he interjects. “Are you avoiding me? Do I have to live on Mars for a moment?”

“I offended you, or something. Don’t lie to me.”

Driven by jealousy last time and the building stress pooling at the pit of his stomach ache blanches and almost yells. Maybe it’s also because of sleepless nights and he is eating less, food becomes unappealing. “This isn’t about me avoiding you. This is about you minding someone else’s business. Stop playing detectives with me.” And Mars is too far. Jongin’sgonna leave him too, huh?

“If you’re not gonna leave, then I’ll go.”

:::

“I hope he’d bump on close doors.”

Baekhyun hears it and opposes the idea. “I wouldn’t wish that if I were you. If he’ll gonna bump on the cafeteria’s door, that girl--” he jots his chin in favour of pointing somewhere behind his back that makes Kyungsoo hiss, both at his friend’s careless gesture and at the sudden twist in his stomach. Not again,“--would be the first one to check up on him. And I think you wouldn’t want that.”

Kyungsoo never mentioned a name but the thing is Baekhyun says this now as if he is so sure. Baekhyun leans forward because there’s a secret here being not a secret anymore and the raise of his eyebrows challenges Kyungsoo to tell him he’s getting the wrong idea.

No girl was around _him_ before Kyungsoo stealthily grabbed a lonely chair on a lonely secluded table. Ironically, what’s disturbing is he can easily picture them. He can’t look behind now.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

He punches numbers on the calculator, imagining the keys are Jongin’s fingers and he is punching them. It is complicated, this feeling. He begrudgingly wants to see the boy, just a glimpse even from afar. He wants Jongin to find him, smile again and bring the normalcy they once had but ironically at the same time Kyungsoo doesn’t want to be seen.

“Oh c’mon, Soo. Don’t try to be dumb.”

Yeah, it’s dumb. “ _What?”_

“Oh, I didn’t know you’re kind of deaf, too.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, unimpressed. That’s it, Baekhyun is weird and has to bump on doors. He and Baekhyun don’t have the usual friend’s dynamics. They don’t usually hangout (blame self-centered Soo) and do pranks with each other, like what Jongdae and Chanyeol likes to do. There are days they don’t even talk. Surprisingly, since elementary days obnoxious Baek could somehow see through quite Kyungsoo’s façade and even though he is adamant long ago to shoo the nosy friend away, Baekhyun stays.

Kyungsoo’s face scrunched up. He reaches and plants a grabby hand atop Byun’s squirming head and begins to try bumping it on the table’s surface. Baekhyun puts up a fight, threatening him to stop but he’s actually laughing. It’s not every day you could get Kyungsoo to play along with your dumb games.

“Ouch!” He slaps down the hand that’s coming and pats his own head. He gives him an incredulous stare when he gets the freedom, “You ruined my hair!” Baekhyun complains but he really couldn’t help himself so despite the bad hair, his pursed lips are crooked with a smile. He’s bad at hiding it. Somehow it is a good day, he scored 90 at the last long quiz and later when he gets home he’d name one of the newborn kittens Kyung. After all, the kitten seems to have an eyebrow.

Kyungsoo cracks an honest laugh and it really helps to cheer him up, the subject about Jongin already far behind his mind. “You love it, though.” By now, Kyungsoo’s eyes are almost non-existent; they take the shape of a simple curve and his lips a cute semblance to a poorly-drawn heart.

“Hah, took you long enough to know that!” Baekhyun shots with sarcasm and flies one hand to sock his friend in the arm. He stops half way, eyes caught something on the back.

“Oh,” Baek pauses, eyes dilating on minimum and Kyungsoo figures it’s a sign. He doesn’t think he’ll like what will come next. “We have been discovered, Soo.”

Discovered by who?! The hell, what’s the suspense for? Kyungsoo pales, he’s mind getting ahead of himself. But, relax! He must mean their PE instructor they ditched last time or it could beJongdae again. He will appear casually, swinging arms but honestly just wants to wiggle his pinky finger in someone else’s ears when they least expect it. That’s some nasty habit if you ask Kyungsoo.

“…do, okay? Count to ten and don’t look until five.”

Crap, Kyungsoo has spaced out and Baekhyun gathers his things in a storm, appearing like he will bolt after two seconds. This got Kyungsoo to panic. Base on his words, someone is already approaching. His thoughts don’t settle that it’s just Jongdae, Jongdae doesn’t make the little hairs on his nape stand on any occasion and because he is afraid to check behind his back, the situation turns a lot more disturbing.

The day that Kyungsoo actually wants- _begs_ \- Baekhyun to stay comes today. He clamps his hands on him tightly, like his life depends on it. “ _Where are you going?_ ” goes Kyungsoo’stiny cry of help but Baekhyun the bastard goes from concern to self-righteous. “Kyungie, man up and don’t run this time!” He has witnessed the effects. It could become a habit, this running. Plus, it doesn’t make anything better, it just prolongs what should have been solved long ago. He hisses and begins to tug his arm back, changing tactics and pretends to bite Kyungsoo’s hand instead.

Somebody must have kicked a chair, deliberately or not but effectively, it also got the duo stop their physical quarrel.

Jongin obviously doesn’t approve on what he sees.

He knows it, that Baekhyun and Kyungsoo are just friends. Super platonic friends whose chances of being in love in one another are as slim as fishes can say annyeonghaseyo. Still, for Jongin who harbors big fat romantic feelings for the elder boy with glasses, he can’t help but feel territorial. If he’s a wolf, he has growled by now. This day marks the fourth time he sees Kyungsoo laugh and just like the past events, Jongin is not the reason for it. His jealousy overtakes. Baekhyun flinches as if burned, raising his arms in mock surrender and Jongin doesn’t realize how hard he has been pointedly glaring all this time.

“Yo, Jongin.”

The greeting falls on deaf ears when Jongin starts looking at Kyungsoo instead, his eyes turns a little soft and the creases between his brows go mellow. Then he whispers, voice in a soft tone. “Hi, Kyungsoo.”

The elder tenses on his chair.

_To see you._

His heart swells in the tenderness. He wonders if the younger has forgiven him. Stressed or not, it is wrong to dump frustration on people who just actually wants to reach at you. Unfiltered words that never took the detour to brain before spoken hurt more than 0.5 syringestabbing your vein.

_To see~_

Jongin is brave at this, at confrontation, while Kyungsoo is not.  At this angle, he sees the veins on Jongin’s arms, they’re thick and …. Argh. Kyungsoo pushes out a grunt, still can’t muster the nerve to say sorry. He will apologize. Next time?

_~ you._

Jongin sees him glare at Baekhyun behind his lenses. Kyungsoo has grown his bangs, doesn’t have the heart to cut it short because his mother says it suits him better and he’s never been thankful for his mother’s influence because of that. When desperate, hair could be a shield from peering eyes.

But Jongin is so tired of this. The cat and mouse game they’re playing is tiring. By now, he just wants to cup those chubby cheeks and say i-like-you-please-like-me-too. It doesn’t matter if the elder doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, it’s okay. He can wait. All he wants to do now is to let Kyungsoo know, to let him have a clue. This feeling seems to have a mind of their own, they expand. They grow. And it’s only a matter of time before he explodes. He can’t be that sane to contain it.

This hurts beyond belief, Kyungsoo’s elusive eyes are sharp knives ripping his chest down to his stomach.

“Please talk to me.” _Please, look at me._

“I’ll wait for you by the shed after classes.”

 

:::

The sunset has dimmed the day. Jongin stands alone at the fluorescent that flickers once in awhile, he has been there since 3. The guard on duty gives him a look. It’s late and he has to lock the gate.

Kyungsoo doesn’t come to school the next day and the day after.

 

 


End file.
